Breathe In, Page 2

  A text comes in and I scramble to retrieve my phone from the counter top, knocking over an empty glass in my haste. Mother blinks on the screen. I close my eyes tight against ugly emotions: angst toward my mother’s relentless nagging about my cheating father, and shame because I had hoped it was Tom. What is wrong with me? Sometimes I wonder if my consistently poor choice of men is due to watching my mom and dad’s toxic relationship all through my childhood. The ups and downs, the ebb and flow of when things were good and then suddenly bad again, the constant feeling of walking on eggshells, of pretending it was all okay even though it never was. It certainly couldn’t have helped.

  My appetite has waned, so I clean the kitchen and retreat to my bedroom for the night. Peeling out of my slacks and blouse, I slip into a t-shirt and forgo the shower. I don’t have the energy for it. The sheets are cool against my thighs as I slip under the covers.

  Before I put my phone on the nightstand, I do the one thing that I know I shouldn’t, but keeps nagging at my conscience. I pull up Tom’s number and send a quick text.

  Me: I just want to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped by like that. Good night.

  Refusing to allow guilt or regret to slink into my thoughts, I toss the phone aside and sink down into my soft pillow. I remember the last time Tom and I spent the night together.

  Lying in the dark with only the light from the hotel bathroom filtering in. The cool night air drifting in under the wispy curtain of our hotel room. Tom always insisted that a window be open. If a hotel didn’t have windows that opened, he wouldn’t stay there. It always struck me as odd. Only half awake, I ran my index finger over the tattoo that adorned his left bicep. “What is this?”

  Sleepily, he glanced down. “It’s a phoenix. Don’t you know what that is?”

  “It represents death and rebirth. Burning to ashes and then rising again into a new life. Right?”

  He closed his eyes, drifting to sleep in a post-sex reverie. “Something like that.”

  I continued to run my fingers over the tattoo and imagined myself burning from the inside out into a heap of wasted ash and then suddenly bursting to life again into a stronger, more beautiful self. A self that speaks my mind and lives a braver existence. “I wish I had a tattoo like that,” I whispered into the dark, more to myself than to Tom.

  To my surprise, he answered without opening his eyes. “You have to earn it first.”

  Tilting my chin up, I watched his strong jawline against the pillow. “How did you earn yours?”

  A pause lingered in the air between us.

  “I don’t like to talk about it, but my dad died when I was only three. After that, my mom went through a slew of men. I guess she couldn’t handle the idea of being alone. Some were cool. Some weren’t. One was a sick bastard that had a thing for young boys.”

  Another pause filled the air as I processed what he’d just shared with me. I gasped and my stomach rolled as I realized the underlying meaning of what he said. I placed a hand on his chest. “Tom, I’m sorry that happened to you. Did you ever tell your mother? How did you cope?”

  His body stiffened in the bed next to me. His breathing was shallow and slow. “My mom knew. For four years, she knew and did nothing. As for how I coped, when I was old enough, I made sure to be there as a witness to their karma.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked down at me, but his eyes had glossed over, his brow furrowed as if seeing something from his past rather than my face. He shook it off. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He rolled away, turning his back to me. His voice was gruff. “I earned the tattoo. That’s all you need to know. Now go to sleep. I’m tired.”

  Now his words echo in my mind as I lie here in bed, feeling like a broken fool, wishing he’d respond to my text. This is my pathetic pattern. There is no possible way I could ever earn a symbol like that. I cannot be someone that I’m not, no matter how hard I wish it.

  Shoving aside old conversations and images of a burning phoenix, I roll to my side. Click. The light goes out. Ear buds in. A calm, soothing, masculine voice tells me to breathe in and breathe out.

  I am calm. I am calm. I am calm.

  ***

  An obnoxious sound taunts me out of dreamland. I’m conscious enough to know I’m rising out of the depths of REM sleep, but out of it enough to resist. Limbs are heavy. Lids won’t lift. Mouth is hanging open and dry. The sound is incessant, so I drag myself to the surface. Eyes open and close. Open and close. Open. Brain processes sound. My cell-phone ringer.

  Rolling over to the other side of the bed, I reach for my phone, hoping it’s Tom. What time is it? A quick glance at the red digits of my alarm clock tells me it’s only five after ten. I haven’t been asleep all that long. Still, it’s kind of late for phone calls. At least for me it is. Eyes focus. It’s Terin. Oh, yeah, I forgot to read her text earlier.

  “Hey, Terin, what’s up?”

  “Girl, you sound tired. Were you sleeping already?”

  I lie back on the pillow and close my eyes again. “No. I mean, yes, I guess I fell asleep. But I’m awake now. What’s up? I saw the text from you earlier and meant to read it, but I didn’t get to it. Then I fell asleep and…it was just a long day, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever, it’s cool. You’re super busy these days. I get it. I was just texting to see if you were still pining over that Tom asshole, waiting for him to text you back.”

  This girl. She’s the one person I can be myself with. The one person who has my best interest at heart. She’s brutally honest, and sometimes that sucks, but it’s always something I need to hear anyway, so I take my lumps as she serves them. “I’m not pining over him. Not really. I had hoped to maybe…I don’t know, see him again. Have some closure?”

  “Closure? I’m sorry, is him ignoring your texts and phone calls for over a week not enough closure for you?”

  I cringe. There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell her about tonight’s incident. “Jeez, Terin, go easy on me. It’s not that simple. I think I just got caught up in our little…fling.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “He and I had a good time and I got ahead of myself. No big surprise. I’ve done it before.”

  “So I take it you still haven’t heard from him then?”

  I sigh, contemplating how much to disclose. “Look, he’s much older than me and I think that’s always bothered him. Plus he’s a very wealthy and successful businessman. He travels a lot and work takes almost all of his time. He said he likes his privacy and wants to keep it that way…”

  “So you have heard from him?”

  Her critical discernment is the thing I both love and hate about her. It births doubt within me. It reveals my stupidity. I pause and think carefully before I answer the question. “Yes. Today. He said that he couldn’t see me anymore. That he was a private person and too busy for…complications. That vague explanation is all he gave. I’m confused and a little heartbroken, to be honest.”

  She sighed loudly. “Shit, I’m sorry, Tess. I know I’m busting your balls here, but I love you and hate seeing you hurt. And if you ask me, he’s hiding something. I have a hard time believing he was all hot and heavy after you these last few weeks and then he suddenly drops you like a hotcake and gives you a lame excuse about being too busy or too private, or whatever. It just doesn’t set right with me. You know?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Come on, think about it. His behavior has been off from the very start. I suspect he’s got something to hide, but I never wanted to mention it before and kill your hopeful joy. It’s been a while since I saw you that lighthearted and happy. I couldn’t bear to rain on your parade. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s just an asshole.”

  “I know you don’t like to upset me. Plus, I wouldn’t have listened anyway. You know how I am.”

  She gave a light chuckle. “Yeah, I know. You ostrich everything. Something crops up that you don’t like and you stick your head in the
sand to avoid conflict. Seen it a hundred bazillion times.” She pauses a heartbeat. “Listen, I just worry about you. You know? I mean, you’ve always been so…”

  I close my eyes, bracing for what she’s about to say. “So what? Such a pushover?”

  “Well, that’s not what I was going to say, but now that you mention it, yeah.” Her speech picks up as she tries to recover. “I don’t mean that as an insult, Tess. You know that. I love you. You’re my best friend. But as your best friend, there are times when I just want to scream and pull my hair out when I watch you be so dang nice all the time. I mean, don’t you ever feel like not being nice? Don’t you ever feel like telling someone to shove it where the sun don’t shine?”

  I shrug into the dark room. “Not really. I don’t think so. I don’t want to be mean to anyone or hurt someone’s feelings.”

  “But see, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Sometimes in life, you have to step on other people’s toes just so they stop stepping all over yours. It’s not always fun, although, it can be. But it is often absolutely necessary. You hear what I’m saying? Sometimes it’s not an option. You gotta stand up for yourself simply because it needs to be done. Does that make sense? You feel me?”

  I nod. “I understand what you’re saying. I do. I just can’t fathom finding that kind of bravado anywhere inside of me. Have I thought of speaking my mind? Yeah, sure. Can I act on it? Heck no! I’m not like you. I wish I was but, then again, let’s face it. If I acted anything like you, I would have probably already bitch-slapped my uptight boss and been fired long ago.”

  The offhand comment has the exact effect I had intended. Terin sputters and spurts as she laughs into the phone. “Isn’t that the truth? Oh, what I wouldn’t give to watch you do something like that. I know it’s in you, girl. Way down deep. You just don’t know it yet. And don’t worry about that bitter woman, Tess. She just needs to get laid. Is she still giving you a hard time?”

  “Nothing more than usual. She’s a bitter, angry old woman and I’m the one she likes to take it out on. Story of my life. Reminds me of high school and the way Cindy Lorde used to make my life a living hell.”

  “Oh, jeez, Tessa, when are you gonna get over all that? It was a long time ago. And she’s probably a washed up has-been by now with twenty kids and a big butt.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, she was the cool girl back then and that’s a perfect example of a time when I should have stood up for myself.”

  “That’s true and further proves my point. It’s time you started sticking up for yourself. So, back to the Tom thing…you’re over him then? You’re doing okay?”

  I bite my lip and stare at the ceiling fan overhead. Mostly shadows in the dark room, its blades are still and my clock light reflects off it oddly in the center so that it almost appears to have eyes. It looks like a starfish clinging to my roof.

  Should I lie or tell her that I’m miserable and praying he’ll call me? I don’t even know why. Like she said, he’d told me he couldn’t see me anymore. Not that he didn’t want to see me. Just that he couldn’t. That thought makes me sick to my stomach. How could I want a man who no longer wants me? I bet Gerald would be more than happy if I called him tonight. Ugh, I’m such a stupid girl sometimes.

  “Yeah, yeah, Terin, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I, uh…”

  My phone buzzes as a text comes in. Without thinking, I pull the phone from my ear to take a peek. It’s Tom. My heart thuds against my ribcage. Hit the text. Read it silently, holding my breath while my friend rambles on.

  Tom: Stop. Texting. Me.

  That’s it. That’s all he has to say to me. Tears well up and I feel like I might choke on them. Swallow down the shame. Terin was right about him. I never meant anything to him. I’m probably one of many. Insignificant. I place the phone to my ear and listen to the last bit of whatever Terin prattles on about. I can’t focus. When she pauses, I take the chance to escape. “Hey, I hate to cut it short, but my stomach is killing me. I think I might have eaten something bad. Do you mind if we hang up for the night?”

  “No, no, sure. Sorry you’re not feeling so good. Hope you’re not on the toilet all night long. Remember that time I ate the bad clam chowder and nearly died from projectile diarrhea?”

  No answer.

  “Okay, I’ll let you go then, Tess. Just call me in the morning to let me know you’re alive.”

  Hoping I still sound cheerful, I say goodnight, hang up, and toss the phone to the foot of the bed.

  I’m not even going to try to breathe through this. I stare up at the ceiling and let the tears run down my cheeks, into my hair, and onto my pillow. The starfish on the ceiling stares back at the sad, pathetic girl and laughs.

  CHAPTER TWO

  My right front pocket buzzes. A text message. I shelve another book and ignore it. It’s probably Terin again. She’s been serial-texting me for the last four days. If I respond, she’ll interrogate me until I confess why I’m avoiding her. It’s not like I want to admit that I’m depressed and in a funk because of Tom. It’s not like I want to admit how pathetic I am over this.

  “Tessa, when you’re done there, would you mind helping this young man log onto our computers?”

  Distracted, I give my coworker, Sara, a quick nod. “Yeah, I’ll be right over.” I adjust my blouse, pulling it down over the waist of my trousers. The boy looks to be about twelve and has his shoulders hunched and his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. I flash a welcoming smile and wave him over. “Come on. Let’s go. It’s easy. I’ll show you.”

  As I get him settled into one of our computer stations and demonstrate how he can log in and access the intranet and the internet, my phone buzzes repeatedly. The boy seems comfortable with technology and the web once he’s logged in, so I leave him to navigate on his own. My pocket is buzzing every few minutes at this point, and I’m desperate to take a minute to give Terin a quick response so maybe she’ll leave me alone.

  I scan the floor. Gretta is nowhere to be seen and I’d rather not deal with her at the moment anyway. Sara is at the library’s front desk helping check out a short line of customers. I stride toward her and let her know I’m taking a ten-minute break before I shuffle out the front door. The minute I step outside, I regret not grabbing my coat. Everett, Washington is experiencing its typical dreary, blustery fall weather. It’s not exactly raining at the moment, but there’s a fine mist floating down and everything is saturated through from the night’s previous storm so that the air is thick with moisture. Everything feels damp and heavy. I huddle under the overhang to the left of the front doors and dial her number. As I place the phone to my ear, I turn the other direction to keep my back to the wind. Opposite me, on the right side of the front stairs, is a man in dark, over-sized clothing, smoking a cigarette. It’s not uncommon to see passersby hovering by our front doors, with its large overhang that allows escape from the elements, but it’s illegal for anyone to smoke within twenty-five feet of the building.

  I bite my lip and wrap my arms tighter around my torso while listening to the phone ring. Should I say something to this man? I don’t usually make a habit of talking to strangers. Besides, he’s staring right at me with a speculative eye, one brow raised just slightly, as if he’s gauging how I’ll react. It’s unnerving, so I hunch my shoulders and turn my back to him. The wind picks up and blows the fine drizzle directly in my face. Hurry up and answer the damn phone, Terin!

  A click and then her sprightly voice follows. “It’s about dang time, woman!”

  “Yeah, well, I’m at work, and standing in the rain, and I don’t have more than a few minutes so I can’t talk long. The last thing I need is to give Gretta a reason to complain about me being on the phone during work hours. Why are you blowing up my phone today?”

  “Ummm, hello? Because you haven’t responded to the last four days of texts, so I figure if I’m annoying enough, you’ll give in and answer. Are you okay?”

  I sneak a quick glance
over my shoulder to see if the man is still there. He is, but thankfully he’s not looking at me. He’s staring out into the street, still puffing on his cigarette as if in deep contemplation. As he brings it up to his mouth for another pull, I notice his last two fingers are black and blue, even the fingernails. Wincing, I wonder how he smashed them. The nails will eventually fall off.

  I turn and huddle farther under the eave, out of the blowing wind. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. I’ve been busy, that’s all. Is that the only reason you’re harassing me? Just to make sure I’m okay?”

  “Well, that, and I got VIP passes to that new bar downtown tomorrow night. I need you to go with me.”

  Icy wind swoops under my pant legs, sending goosebumps over my flesh. I scrunch my eyes tight. I have no desire to go to a bar these days. “Eh, I don’t know—”

  She cuts me off. “No, don’t you make any lame excuses. You’ve pouted around long enough. I know you keep saying you’re fine but I know you, and I know when you’re having a pity party. So, you’re going to put on your big-girl panties and get the fuck over it. Got it?”

  Before I can respond, she continues her speech. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to check out this new place since it opened last month. Now that I have VIP passes, I’m not missing out, and neither are you. You’re my wingman. You’re going.”

  Sigh. There’s no point in arguing the issue. “Fine. How did you get VIP passes, anyway?”

  “I won them on the radio,” she says matter-of-factly, as if I should have known that information already.

  We hang up. I pocket my phone and turn to retreat inside the building. Why on earth didn’t I call her from the breakroom? Because I don’t like my coworkers eavesdropping, that’s why. And I was serious about not needing to give Gretta another reason to gripe at me. Sometimes I’m surprised she hasn’t found some lame reason to fire me. I’m not even sure why she dislikes me so much.